


For the Love of a Profligate

by Casey_Wolfe



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Age Difference, Blindfolds, Community: falloutkinkmeme, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Praise Kink, Rare Pairings, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:25:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Wolfe/pseuds/Casey_Wolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Veteran Ranger tracks down a lone Legion Recruit.  Vulpes comes across the Courier in the Wasteland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Love of a Profligate

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a fill for a prompt on the Fallout Kink Meme.  The prompter wanted to see a M!Legion Recruit and a M!Veteran Ranger together.  So I took that and spinned it a bit.  Hopefully the prompter doesn’t mind.  Also to note, I make references to the recruit being a “boy” and such- he’s legal age, just much younger than the Ranger.

They were ambushed.  Ambushed by Rangers.   _Veteran Rangers_.  To the young recruit it was as though demons had risen from the Mojave and attacked.  They were precise and efficient, deadly in every way he’d been told.  The stories of the elite NCR division were something of ghost stories, a way to keep the recruits in line- or so he had thought.

The Legion recruit stumbled over his feet when he turned to look behind him.  The fact no one else was following him was disturbing and his fear ratcheted up a notch.  All he could do was keep running, avoid capture, and get back to camp in order to warn them about the Ranger presence in the area.

His chest was heaving by the time he came to a halt, collapsing in the hot sand.  It burned his bare legs, but not as much as his lungs did.  He pulled off his leather headgear, tossing it aside and pulling down the scarf that covered his face.  Grabbing the canteen at his hip, he chugged down a good amount without thought.  It was a bad move though and it immediately came back up.

Miserable and exhausted, the recruit crawled forward.  He was in a rocky outcropping that provided some shelter from the bright sun.  Safely tucked away in the shade, he grunted as his back hit the stone.  Sitting against it, his head lulled back as his steely grey eyes flicked upward. “What a mess…”

He was most likely the lone survivor in his unit.  It had been nothing but recruits led by a single Decanus.  Perhaps if his commander had made it out he would look for him.  However it was unlikely. No, it would be up to the recruit to figure out where he was and how to get back to camp.  For the moment however, he didn’t even want to _think_ about moving.

“Well, well...”  The recruit was startled by the strange voice that spoke from seemingly nowhere.  To his horror, before him stood one of the same Veteran Rangers he'd been fleeing from.  “Look what we have here…  Told 'em one escaped.”

The Ranger’s voice came out distorted due to the gas masks they all wore.  The eyes of the mask almost glowed red, adding to the menacing appearance.  His body armor was heavy plate, a knee-length trench coat following the lines of his body.  The recruit’s eyes continued down, noting the way the belt filled with spare ammo hung off to the side around the Ranger’s hip, which naturally drew his attention to the fitted, faded denim he wore.

It appeared nightmares had come to life, leaving him cornered and at the mercy of the Legion’s sworn enemy.

The recruit swallowed the lump in his throat, eyes darting back up as the sun caught the weapon in the Ranger’s hand.  Almost as legendary as they were, the blued Sequoia revolver was extensively engraved.  And that gun was now pointed right at his head.

The recruit pinched his eyes shut, waiting for death.  When it didn’t come he looked up to find the Ranger hadn’t moved, staring at him from behind the mask.  Fearing capture, he knew what was expected of a loyal soldier of Caesar.  Drawing his machete, he put the blade to his throat in attempt of ending it quickly.

He hadn’t counted on the Ranger being so fast.  The man seemed to move in a blur at the same time he did. The Ranger was upon him in an instant, twisting his wrist and drawing his arm away.  The pain of the hold forced him into dropping his blade and the recruit whimpered.

“Stupid move kid,” the Ranger grunted, not loosening his grip.  He was crouched in front of the recruit, crowding into his space and effectively pinning him.  The young recruit inhaled sharply at the proximity.  The Ranger was even larger up close, broad in the shoulder, with at least twenty pounds on him- all of which was muscle.

The Ranger’s fingers were at his throat, swiping at the shallow cut which was all he managed to accomplish.  The blood shone on the man’s fingertips as he pulled them away.  “Real stupid,” he repeated.  “What is it with you damn Legionaries and your fetish for offing yourselves?”

The recruit ground his teeth.  Despite it most likely being a rhetorical question he grit out, “Caesar’s orders are to never be taken alive.”

He could almost hear the grin in the Ranger’s voice as he replied, “Well now, ain't that interesting.”  He let the younger man go and as the recruit pulled his sore arm to his chest he added, “You’re not about to go anywhere Legionary.”

“I’m not a full Legionary yet,” he ended up barking out, angered at the brash creature in front of him.

“And he still has some fire left,” the Ranger mused.  “Better than almost wetting yourself the minute I showed up.”  He started to laugh, the sound coming out odd behind the mask, and the recruit cursed colorfully in Latin.

The Ranger’s hand closed around his pale throat.  “None of that tongue of yours,” he hissed.  As grey eyes curled back into his head from lack of oxygen, the Ranger finally released him.  Coughing, the recruit doubled over.

“What’s your name?” demanded the Ranger.

“Go to hell _profligate,_ ” the recruit spat.  He was starting to lose his earlier fear and apparently the Ranger saw it too because he decided to put that fear right back into him.

“Shut your mouth!” he snapped, backhanding the recruit.

Grabbing the front of his armor, the Ranger pulled him close, forcing him to gaze right in the eyes of that devilish mask.  The Ranger growled, “I’m sure you’d rather live.  So I’d start cooperating if I were you.”  The recruit could only nod dumbly.  “Good boy.” He was released slowly and the recruit was smart enough- and scared enough- to stay put.

Satisfied, the Ranger rose to full height.  Once again the recruit appreciated the other’s form.  This Ranger was so well shaped that he couldn’t help but admire him- a man, where he himself was still a boy in many’s eyes. Apparently the veteran noticed the attention, the grin in his voice as he stated, “Like what you see boy?”

The recruit swallowed, unsure the right way to answer.  In Caesar's Legion it wasn’t uncommon for brothers-in-arms to lay with each other.  It was trust, bonding, one of the purest of loves.  He had met many tribes over their years of conquering however and knew they didn’t all see the wisdom of such relationships.  What the NCR believed, he couldn’t honestly say.

The Ranger kicked his foot, not harshly, just enough to jar him.  Swallowing again, the recruit managed to nod, terrified to say it aloud.  “Well, well…”  There was amusement in the Ranger’s voice.  “Ya’d think ol’ _Caesar_ would crucify you boys for that.”  The recruit cringed internally at the man’s pronunciation of their leader’s name- but then he was still a profligate.

Not that the recruit had time to really focus on that as the Ranger pushed his trenchcoat off his shoulders, allowing it to slide off to the ground.  It revealed the man's bare arms, his biceps impressive in size.  Then again, that seemed to be the theme.

“Stand up,” the Ranger ordered, snapping the younger man back to attention.  He scrambled to obey, earning him a little chuckle.  After the earlier display of force though he wasn’t about to say a word about it.  “Get rid of that armor.”  As he said this, the Ranger started fiddling with his ammo belt, making it very clear about his intentions.

Wetting his lips, the recruit raised slightly shaky hands to the padding that protected his chest and shoulders.  As he was fiddling with the straps, the man in front of him asked, “So… gonna tell me yer name?”

“I don’t have one,” the recruit murmured.

“Yeah?  Everyone’s gotta have a name kid.”

He shook his head.  “When we’re taken into the Legion we’re stripped of our old lives.  We have to earn our names just as we earn our place as Legionaries.”

The Ranger hummed and surprised the recruit by stepping up into his space to help remove the first piece of armor.  As he was helping with the leather that guarded his abdomen the older man inquired, “What about your name before the Legion?”

“I was only a boy,” he admitted.

“You still are.”  It was said with kindness and the young recruit wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.  Kindness from a profligate? Protective armor shed and the simple cloth around his waist removed, he was left in just his tunic and undergarments.  It made him feel completely vulnerable, yet he wasn’t scared- the words of the Ranger steadied him.

Reaching out, the Ranger tugged at the scarf that had been removed from his face, still hanging around the recruit's neck.  “Turn around,” he ordered, not waiting for the recruit to obey on his own and instead spinning him.  He felt the press of the larger man against his back as the now folded scarf wrapped around his eyes.

A small amount of panic crept up in him at that and he struggled to move away.  “What are you doing?!” he demanded.  His arms were folded across his chest, pulled back against the Ranger, effectively ending his futile struggles.

“Relax kid,” was the filtered reply in his ear.  “You’ll like this.”  As he was slowly released there was an added, “Stay put.”

All he could do was stand there, starting to shake.  He had an idea of what was coming, had heard the Legionaries in their tents at night, had even seen a coupling between a pair of fellow recruits.  Even so, he had no experience here and it terrified him. Part of him screamed to run- this was an enemy of the Legion for Caesar's sake!- however what kept him rooted in place was the part that was curious, that tingled in anticipation.

His nerves only grew as he heard the clatter of what could only have been the Ranger’s gun belt.  It was followed shortly by a light thud and a clank that sounded like metal- his armor plating the recruit realized.  The Ranger was making himself just as vulnerable to him- no, the recruit corrected himself, the older man was still far more protected than he was.

When the Ranger returned, he was pulled back against a firm body, devoid of any armor to get in their way.  The recruit inhaled sharply before letting out a soft moan despite himself as his head fell back to the man’s shoulder.  The Ranger had almost a full head on him in height and combined with the muscles and strong arms that held him, the recruit could fool himself into feeling completely safe.

“That’s a good boy,” was purred into his ear, no longer a filter to it.  The infamous Veteran Ranger mask had been removed, allowing the man to brush lips along the shell of his ear.  The scratch of stubble was against his neck as he moved to place soft kisses there.  “Ready baby?”

The only answer he could give was a high-pitched whine, squirming in his grasp.  He wanted to say no, he really did, but the words wouldn’t come.  There was shushing sounds in his ear, a hand at his throat applying gentle pressure.  “I got you,” was the assurance before being spun around.

Pressed together, the recruit felt the warm breath on his face.  He desperately searched for something to hold onto, snagging denim.  There was a positive noise from the Ranger and the man rolled his hips towards him.

Before he could react, one of those big hands was at his throat again.  It wasn’t threatening, just a guiding force.  Where it was directing him was the other’s lips.  The Ranger drew him into a kiss and the recruit felt his heart start to race.

The press of lips was soft and warm.  There was no rush to it, the slide of the Ranger’s tongue going across his lower lip. The Ranger's hands held him steady, running firmly down his sides to grasp his hips.  The recruit had no choice but to roll with the other’s movements as he continued to move his hips lazily.  One hand traveled around to his lower back while the other trailed all the way back up to cup his cheek, deepening the kiss.

The recruit was completely overwhelmed in sensation.  Without his sight all he could do was _feel_.  The Ranger’s lips were hot and his hands raised goosebumps on his flesh when they trailed under his remaining clothing to remove them.  The man’s hands were everywhere at once, both gentle but also filled with coiled strength underneath.

There was amusement in the Ranger’s voice as he said, “You can touch me too y’know.” The recruit's fingers had curled into the pockets of the man’s pants and now they were being peeled off and redirected to the Ranger’s leather belt instead.  Swallowing, the recruit got the hint, starting at the buckle with slightly shaky hands.

“Easy there boy,” the Ranger murmured, hand rubbing the recruit’s shorn brunette hair.  It felt a lot like how one of the Legionaries worked with a skittish dog.  “You’d look so pretty with longer hair,” he remarked fondly.

The younger man had managed to undo the belt, briefly wondering what he should do.  He could feel the button on the denim pants beneath his fingers and took a chance, working it loose.  “There’s a good boy,” the Ranger murmured, grasping his hands and moving them to undo the zipper next.  It seemed to go agonizingly slow and when it was done the Ranger once again encouraged him to touch.

The recruit nodded, licking his kiss-swollen lips as his hands ghosted over the man’s bare torso.  He ended up pressing his hands more firmly against the muscles of the Ranger’s abdomen.  They then moved up his sternum, mapping his body with the same reverence he’d shown to the young recruit.  The Ranger’s chest was broad and well-toned, just as his abdomen was, though not overly so.

Eventually the Ranger grabbed his wrist, causing him to freeze.  Thinking he’d done something wrong, he was relieved when the man only took his hands, bringing them up to his lips to place a soft kiss to each palm in turn.  The recruit inhaled sharply at the tingling sensation that shot straight to his groin.

Reacting, the recruit shot forward, tilting his head back and trying to find the other’s mouth.  He ended up catching the corner of it, the Ranger turning his head so their lips connected in a fierce kiss.  The older man drew in a long deep breath through his nose, dragging him closer as the recruit tangled fingers into his hair- which was just long enough to grab hold of.

“Turn around,” the Ranger commanded against his lips, the hint of a growl present.  “On your hands and knees.”  The recruit had stopped trying to fight his body, already aching with want.  So it was nothing for him to follow the order, allowing the Ranger to help guide him with his inability to see.

He could hear the rustle of clothes, knowing his soon-to-be lover was divesting himself of those tight pants, the final layer of clothing left between them.  Sure enough when the Ranger knelt behind him, skin was hot on skin, causing the younger male to groan.  One hand grasped his hip, fingers rubbing circles into flesh in a calming manner.

Without warning, slick fingers were prodding at his hole- why the man carried lubricant he wasn’t about to ask, but the recruit was thankful he did.  When one slipped inside, the Ranger purred, “That’s it baby.”  The recruit let out a grunt, the sensation so foreign to him.  “Just relax,” he encouraged, not moving until that happened.  Once his finger glided in and out more easily, a second was added.

“Such a good boy,” the Ranger praised, hand coming up to rub along the recruit’s spine.  The younger couldn’t help but gasp, back curving up to meet his touch.  “There you go,” the man murmured, pressing open-mouth kisses to his lower back as he methodically stretched him open.

Curling the fingers inside him, he could hear the Ranger’s smile as he commented on the stifled whimper he made, “Feel good?”  The recruit nodded however it apparently wasn’t good enough.  “Say it...  Talk to me.”

“Y-yes.”  He was rewarded with the fingers twisting, causing him to keen.

“Are you ready?”

“I-I think so,” the recruit answered, adjusting his stance.  Having never done something like this before, he had no idea if he truly was, but he knew that he wanted- no, _needed_ \- more.  “Please?”

“Well,” there was amusement in the Ranger’s voice, “since you asked so nicely.”

He would like to have said he didn’t whine when the fingers were removed but the recruit couldn’t help it.  Not that the Ranger left him waiting.  With more lubricant added to his cock, the older man shifted in place behind him before breaching inside.  Thanks to the prep it went easily, pressing in slow and steady, filling him to the brim and drawing a long, low groan from his throat.

The Ranger shook a bit when he bottomed out, a moan of his own leaving his lips.  “Such a good boy,” he praised, one hand on his hip as the other smoothed over his back.  “So tight baby.”  He gave the recruit a few moments to adjust, reminding him to breath as he continued to hold him steady.

When the Ranger started to move, the recruit groaned, his fingers curling into the dirt.  With silent urging from his partner, the recruit started to move with the motion of his languid thrusts.  He rolled his hips to meet the Ranger, gasping at how deeply the man penetrated him each and every time.

Finding their rhythm, the Ranger practically growled as he curled over top the smaller male.  The recruit felt all encompassed, his back bowing as the Ranger’s hand reached up to hold him by the throat.  He didn’t hurt him, rather gave a slight squeeze on occasion but was otherwise just a solid presence that turned the young recruit on immensely- not that he could explain why.

The Ranger alternated between hard and fast that grated the recruit’s knees on the rough earth, with a slower more sensual pace that went deep and made the recruit moan and curse.  It slowly drove the recruit higher and higher, his release building like fire in his gut.

“That’s it baby,” the Ranger encouraged, fingers wrapping around his neglected erection.  “Just like that.”

“ _Please_ ,” the recruit whined, rocking into the Ranger’s hand before pushing back hard.  He gasped as a spot inside of him was hit that sent shivers down his spine.  It seemed the Ranger knew exactly what he’d done, proceeding to angle up and brush it with each thrust.

“Good boy,” he praised, mouthing at the back of his neck, sounding breathless himself.  “Come for me.” With a few more thrusts the recruit did just that, the cry that ripped from his throat sure to leave him hoarse for some time.  He could feel it when the Ranger followed him into oblivion, the wet heat filling his ass and leaking out as the veteran soldier cursed.

Teeth sank into the back of the recruit’s neck where it met the shoulder.  It didn’t break skin but he could feel the burn all the same.  The Ranger’s tongue laved at the mark, soothing away the sting.  The recruit felt spent and sore but in a way that felt absolutely divine.

“You’re mine now,” the Ranger spoke in his ear, his voice rough from their activities.  The sound alone caused the recruit to shiver.  It took a moment for the words to register.  As a trail of kisses were being placed across his shoulder, the recruit indeed felt branded, owned.

He didn’t say anything as the Ranger helped him put his underclothes back on.  Nor when he was made to stand there while the man dressed himself.  He could smell the Ranger as he pressed their chests together, the scent of the road, leather, and sex.

Unafraid, the recruit’s hands curled around the lapels of the duster. He could hear the larger man breathing deeply, the scruff on his face rubbing against his as the Ranger nuzzled into his neck.  “I’ll see you again baby,” he assured before giving him a warm kiss, promises lingering on his lips.  “I’ll find you.”

The recruit swallowed hard, nodding despite the lump that formed in his throat.  He knew how unlikely that was but for some reason he found himself hoping, wishing it could be true.

The Ranger pulled away momentarily, the sound of metal moving and the familiar sounds of a mask filter telling the recruit the infamous helmet had been put back on.  Sure enough, the blindfold was removed, making him blink a few times against the light before being able to focus on the Veteran Ranger.  The Black Armor was still intimidating, but knowing the man- and not the demon- that laid beneath it softened the effect just a bit.

The Ranger tilted his head, cupping the younger man’s cheek.  “Stay safe,” he spoke, the slight drawl and rough gravel covered up by the filter.

Grey eyes looked at him sadly but he managed to nod.  The emotions washing over him were completely unfounded, or so the recruit told himself.  It was the overwhelming rush of endorphins and pleasure from his first ever coupling, nothing more.

Even so, when the Ranger turned to walk away, his hand shot out and snagged his arm.  The older man didn’t turn around, just paused, allowing the hold.  The recruit didn’t know what he wanted to say, words failing him when he felt they were most important.  And so the recruit let his hand fall away, murmuring, “Vale.”

“See ya ‘round kid,” the Ranger assured, looking over his shoulder for one last lingering look before he headed back into the desert.  It was uncanny that as he gazed after him, the recruit watched as the Mojave seemed to swallow the Ranger up, causing him to disappear as quickly as he’d arrived.

Of course they never did see each other again.

It wasn’t too long after their meeting that the young recruit- who had been made a full Legionary after surviving the Ranger attack and returning- had earned his name.  His comrades watched as he ripped an NCR soldier to shreds with his bare hands.

When his Centurion looked down on him, he smiled with blood in his mouth as the commander named him Vulpes Inculta- the Desert Fox.

* * *

It had been four years since the Battle of Hoover Dam that sent the Legion running back across the Colorado- since Joshua Graham had been burned alive and thrown off a cliff for his failures, after Vulpes himself had risen through the ranks of the Frumentarii to lead their numbers.  It had been four years, but things were starting to shift into place for the next assault, mostly thanks to his fellow spies he commanded.

Vulpes had changed over the years.  He’d grown another couple inches, filling out in muscle.  He was still lean but had far more power and was far from the wiry kid he _had_ been.  His brown hair had remained cut short for convenience although every once and awhile he could still hear the words of his Ranger saying how nice it would be longer.

 _His Ranger._  He scoffed at his own thoughts.  Even so that was how Vulpes continued to remember the mysterious man.  He had wondered if the Veteran Ranger had made it through the battle at the dam, if he was back in California, deep into the NCR’s territory.  Perhaps he was still in Nevada, but if he was Vulpes had certainly never encountered him.

None of that mattered in the end.  Vulpes realized after that day that the idea of _them_ was nothing more than a fantasy.

Pausing in his trek through the desert, Vulpes saw a figure passing on the road below the ridge he was on.  It was a lone Ranger in the ever-recognizable Black Armor.  It was strange to find them alone but not unheard of.  They were deadly, even on their own.  However they were hardly the boogie men they used to be in Vulpes’ eyes.

Moving silently on fleet foot, Vulpes took the Ranger by surprise, putting him on the ground.  Rolling, the Ranger’s helmet came flying off, Vulpes pinning his right arm down that had drawn a pistol.  His machete was pointed at the Ranger’s face and both of them froze.

Vulpes had never seen the face of his Ranger, but this one he’d seen before.  Below him was the courier everyone was talking about lately, the one who had been shot in the head and survived, the same who had wandered into Nipton the day they met and witnessed the aftermath of the Legion’s cleansing of the town.

“Six,” he acknowledged, his voice more low than it used to be, a smoky quality to it.  They hadn’t traded names that day but his spies had told him enough.

“Vulpes,” the younger man replied, forced calm in his voice and face.  So, he’d done his own research then.

“Interesting armor,” the Frumentarii mused.

“It was a good find.” The smirk that crossed the courier’s face was oddly endearing.

It wasn’t as though Vulpes missed how attractive the man was.  He was only perhaps a few years younger than himself but his build was wider and he stood slightly taller.  Back when Six had been wearing clothing reminiscent of the local populace he’d been able to make out a sleek muscled frame that the armor plating currently hid.  Although the denim pants were doing well at showing off his impressive thighs.

It was the courier’s face that was the most intriguing however.  A strong jaw with a heart-shaped face, he had a clear complexion.  His eyes were a distinctive blue, deeper than any water source Vulpes had ever seen.  His chin-length hair was cut unevenly, shaved on the one side due to the surgery that saved his life.  It was a rich chestnut with some highlights of blonde thanks to being kissed by the sun, much as his skin had been.

“So you’ve aligned yourself with the NCR?” Vulpes gruffed, readjusting his boot to press more on the man’s wrist.  When Six opened his hand to release his gun, he continued, “I doubt they’d take kindly to your impersonation of their most elite Rangers.”

Six shrugged as best he could with his arm pinned, taking on an air of indifference.  “I didn’t exactly ask.”  His smirk grew then, a cocky confidence that Vulpes usually found obnoxious.  With Six however it just seemed founded for some reason.  “Besides, no one can tell with that damn helmet on.  Lets me pass through anywhere without getting hassled by those damn pricks.”

So Six hadn’t given his loyalty to the Legion’s enemy then.  Vulpes’ lips quirked at the freely given information, removing his foot.  The courier nodded in thanks, sitting as he returned his gun to its thigh holster.  Only then did Vulpes sheath is own weapon.  Six didn’t make a move to stand however, instead gazing up at him.

“A little birdy told me you were lookin’ for me,” Six mentioned coyly.

“Oh?”  Vulpes couldn’t help but let a grin briefly curl his lips.

“Yeah… an interestin’ guy by the name of Picus.”

Vulpes chuckled then, a rich, dark sound.  “You do get around indeed.”  Six inclined his head in acknowledgment.  Crouching, the Frumentarii admitted, “I may have heard an interesting rumor as of late.”

“Do tell.”  The courier leaned in, a playful look on his face.

Vulpes indulged him for some strange reason, leaning in a bit as well in a more conspiratory manner.  “The word is that someone entered the Lucky 38.  Very curious don’t you think?”

“Not that impressive,” Six challenged.

“And what if I told you that a certain Chairman by the name of Benny was mysteriously found dead in his private suite?”

“Benny who?”  Six’s lips twitched but otherwise his expression didn’t give.

Vulpes leaned even closer, practically sharing the same air.  “And that a certain courier was in possession of something of great importance to Mr. House- a Platinum Chip.”

Six grinned at that one, his hand disappearing into his trenchcoat pocket.  “You mean a chip like, oh, this one?”  The brunette pulled out a poker chip made of silvery platinum, flipping it into the air.  When he caught it, Vulpes could see it was stamped with the Lucky 38 logo.

“Very much like that one,” Vulpes replied, unable to keep the amusement from his voice.

He watched as Six allowed the chip to dance over his knuckles, moving from finger to finger with ease.  The man’s fingers were long, calluses formed from years of hard work and battle.  Six may not have remembered his past since getting shot but it was clear that he’d seen his share of fights- and not just because of the interesting scar on his temple.

As Six tucked the chip away again, Vulpes continued, “Caesar is very interested in speaking to you about that chip.”

“A lot of people are,” Six gruffed, leaning back on his hands in the dirt.  “And you know I’m not taking sides.”

Vulpes nodded.  He recalled their initial meeting in Nipton.  The mysterious man hadn’t made a move against them and Caesar's laws were clear that couriers were off-limits, so Vulpes had told him to tell the NCR what he had seen there.  Six had told him plainly he wasn’t going to be involved in the pissing contest between the Legion and current occupying force of the NCR.

“Talking is not taking sides,” Vulpes reasoned.  His brows crinkled together as he noticed the way Six was gazing at him.  “What?”

“Curious,” the courier murmured.  Vulpes tilted his head slightly in silent question.  “What you look like under all of that.”  He waved his hand in a circular motion to indicate the coyote skin cowl and his black goggles that kept the dust from his eyes and his identity more concealed.

"And why would that be of importance?"  His voice remained neutral despite the flash of heat running through him.  He only hoped there was no blush as it would surely be visible on his pale skin- the harsh Mojave sun had never darkened it, even after all these years.

The courier’s grin was playful, almost seductive.  “I think you can guess…”  Six slowly raised his hand, sliding it under the cowl at his cheek.  His fingers barely brushed the skin, causing Vulpes to inhale sharply.  The fur came off, falling to the ground.  Next the courier took hold of the goggles, pulling them down so they hung around Vulpes’ neck.

The pair stayed there, staring at each other for the longest time.  Finally Six smiled softly, murmuring, “Beautiful.”

Vulpes was unsure what came over him.  He closed the remaining distance between them, lips pressed together in a devouring kiss.  One hand tangled into those long locks, the other slid into the open duster, trailing down over a hip, rough denim under his fingers.

Six smiled against his lips, tugging at the collar of his armor padding to drag him closer.  "Feisty," he all but purred before locking their lips together, tongue snaking out to tease.

"You are truly wicked," Vulpes commented, trying to draw breath between kisses.

The courier only smiled as he pulled away to meet his gaze.  "I don't hear any complaints."

Vulpes' smile turned feral, voice dropping an octave.  "Nor will you."

Six chuckled, stealing one more kiss before pressing a hand to the Frumentarii's chest.  "I'll meet with this Caesar of yours if it's so important."  Vulpes could practically hear the unspoken _for you_ in that statement.  "But..."  His grin was sly.  "We have something to take care of first."

"Yes we do," Vulpes agreed, his smirk firmly in place as he stood, dragging the courier up with him.  "And there happens to be a Legion safe house not far from here."  Having just been there, he also knew it to be empty.

"Perfect."  Six bent down to pick up the coyote head cowl, dusting it off the best he could.  "Y'know," he mused, gazing at the fur, "the NCR posters don't really do you justice."

"Ah yes.  I've seen quite a number over the last few years.  I especially enjoy the one about 'being my bitch.'"  His grin showed teeth.

Six's lips quirked at the corners, moving into his personal space.  He tilted his head down to gaze at Vulpes through long eyelashes.  "I'll be your bitch," he rumbled, arm snaking around the Frumentarii's waist to pull them flush.  Six nipped at his lower lip.  "Long as I get to return the favor." Vulpes hummed in agreement.

His memory drifted back to another Ranger, broad and tall and tasting of cactus blossom.  No, he realized, it was Six that tasted that way.  He was wild like the desert, and just as free.  Vulpes wondered if the man could ever be tamed- perhaps by his hand.  As he met brilliant blue eyes however, he decided he'd much prefer to see Six stay just the way he was.

"Come on," Vulpes urged, knocking their shoulders together, "Before I decide to claim you here in the open."  Six's laugh was warm as he snatched up the nearly forgotten helmet and moved to keep pace with him.  "And we'll have to do something about those clothes.  Can't have you being shot by one of my men."

"Knew ya cared," Six replied with a smirk.

"We shall see about that profligate."  As he glanced sideways at Six, his profile in sharp contrast with the waning daylight, Vulpes gave a half smile.  Softer he repeated, "We shall see."

/End

**Author's Note:**

> I know the prompter asked for the Ranger to keep his helmet on the whole time.  But somehow he ended up getting all tender and whatnot. I decided on the blindfold instead so then his face was still never seen, so hopefully that ended up being a good compromise. Hope y'all enjoyed!
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://thedenofcaseywolfe.tumblr.com/).


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